


maybe birthday’s aren’t too bad.

by enbymickey



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Happy birthday mickey, M/M, Post Season 10, Pre-Canon, brief smut but like not graphic at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbymickey/pseuds/enbymickey
Summary: Mickey's 6th, 16th and 26th birthday.He wishes he could tell his six and sixteen year old self this, that at twenty six years old he’ll be happily married and have a job that he loves. He has a family that actually likes him and fuck, he actually likes back. He wishes that he could tell that six year old that it won’t always be cake on the walls and one day he won’t give a fuck if his father likes him or not.  He wishes that he could tell that sixteen year old kid that ran off to abandoned buildings to feel safe that he wouldn’t have to run anywhere to feel safe, that the hand on his knee while he eats cake makes him feel safe and not just now but every day because he is safe.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 17
Kudos: 178





	maybe birthday’s aren’t too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to the most inspiring character there is. thank you for inspiring me to be myself, no matter what, for over 6 years now. mickey milkovich deserves the entire world and I'm so happy that he's finally gotten it. mickey is finally happy and safe and loved. he finally gets to live after years of just surviving. happy birthday to the bravest man there is. this one is for him and everyone that loves him.

The first birthday that Mickey can actually remember is his  **_sixth_ ** birthday. It ended in cake to the wall and broken glass scattered around the kitchen, and with the muffled sounds of his mother crying behind the beaten bathroom door like many times before. But before that, before the crying and the cake splattered against the wall like his heart it was an okay day. His mom woke him up early and gave him the last oreo for breakfast, it was really all she could do at that hour but Mickey didn’t care he just smiled at her, a warm smile like hers when it was just the two of them together then split it with her because it was her favorite. 

At school, everything was normal which wasn’t how six year old Mickey really wanted to spend his birthday. He wanted to be excited like the other kids were on their birthdays but he’s not like the other kids, that’s what his father is always telling him.  **_You’re not like those pussy kids, son. You’re a Milkovich. Act like one._ ** And so, he did but that just meant he had no friends and everyone ran from him. Everyone was too scared to tell him happy birthday and give him candy like all the other kids got on their birthday but it was okay, he was a Milkovich. Life was better this way. 

When he gets home he finds out Iggy and Jamie stole an ice cream cake for him. He doesn’t even really like ice cream cake, he knows it’s their favorite but that doesn’t even matter he’s so happy because he’s finally going to get to celebrate his birthday. People at school might always look the other way, might always make a comment under their breath - that was always the teachers, always making comments about those damn Milkovich kids and he knows that’s supposed to make him feel good but it doesn’t. So all that might happen at school but now he’s home and this is his family so now he gets to celebrate. 

Except that’s not true because Iggy eats half the cake before dad gets home, his mom is already acting funny the way she does and that seems to piss dad off so what’s left of the cake gets thrown against the wall. The half clean plates that were on the counter get thrown onto the ground. Terry gets right in his face, smirks the way that makes Mickey’s belly hurt and shrugs. “Happy birthday, kid.” He pats him on the shoulder before grabbing a beer, shrugging then handing Mickey one. He tells him it’s okay, he’s older now and Mickey shrugs because everyone else always drinks it. He doesn’t really like the smell, never has - always reminds him of when his dad is angry or when his mom is sad.

Mickey drinks it anyway and he hates the taste, it’s bitter and makes him want to throw up just like at school but his dad drinks half the bottle in one sip so he just keeps drinking it because he wants his dad to  **_like_ ** him. 

_ He hopes one day his dad just likes him.  _ He hopes one day he stops hearing the muffled cries of his mom. He hopes one day the people at school will just give him a chance and his family will be like all the other families. 

He realizes soon enough, a few years later, that hoping like that will never end well. That his life will never be anything more than a stolen cake smashed against the wall and broken dirty dishes scattered across the kitchen floor. That beer will always taste nasty but he gets used to it because the taste is better than everything else he feels. 

He realizes just a few years after his sixth birthday that he’s fucked for life. 

At least he doesn’t hear his mom crying behind the door anymore. 

On his  **_sixteenth_ ** birthday it took him half the day to even realize it was his birthday. Tattooed fingers swiping across the stolen iphone he stole just minutes ago, smile still on chapped lips because of it, because it’s  **_supposed_ ** to feel good about doing all the shit that Milkoviches do and so he will because he’s not a pussy. 

When he sees the date the smile falls quickly because he doesn’t like this day and because birthdays in this family don’t ever mean shit and he hasn’t even gotten a happy birthday from his father in ten years. Last time he had a cake, too. So, birthdays don’t matter - they never have and they never will. It’s just another day and he’ll act like it’s just another day. 

Maybe that’s why Mandy smiled at him this morning in a way she doesn't usually do because if anyone was going to remember it would be Mandy because she’s the only one in this family that might actually have a heart even if she tries to pretend she doesn’t most of the time. 

He knows not to expect a cake when he gets home, hasn’t had one since the one that was splattered on the wall and sometimes, if he looks hard enough, then he can still see the stain of the red icing. 

So he goes on about his day, not thinking about the day or what it means. He tries not to think about how his mom isn’t there to wake him up to split an oreo with him like she did every year until she eventually just disappeared, disappeared and returned only to be gone for good but she was gone long before that. 

He doesn’t want to go home yet but he’s ran out of shit to do. He’s gotten all the cash that people owe his father and if they didn’t have the cash then he got whatever else was on him. He can walk around with this amount of cash and stuff on him because he’s a  **_Milkovich_ ** and no one is going to touch him. He guesses that’s the only good thing about the last name. He guesses that’s the only good thing about his life. 

Maybe he’ll just walk around until this day is over or maybe he’ll just walk until he’s out of this fucking town and never come back except he knows he can’t do that, he knows the only way he gets out of this is behind bars or six feet under. 

He decides fuck it, he’ll just get drunk.

He walks into the little store at the corner, _Kash_ _‘n whatever the fuck._ His heartbeat picks up a little bit in a way he doesn’t completely understand when he sees that the kid with the orange floppy hair and freckles scattered across his face. He smirks at him as he grabs himself a case of beer, pringles and some chocolate before just walking out. He’s glad the kid was working, and it’s **_not_** because he got to see him but instead because it was easier to steal, the kid isn’t going to say anything. It’s the truth, that’s why. 

Mickey walks around listening to the noise of the city even though his headphones are in and plugged into an ipod that he stole just a few days ago. He doesn’t like to listen to music while walking down the street, he doesn’t like anything to surprise him. He never knows when his dad might show up and pistol whip him just because of the way he’s breathing. 

Terry has never been a quiet person. Mickey can always hear him waking up in the morning and it always ruins the peace of the morning. He can hear him in the kitchen, making him jump with cabinets slamming and fridge doors knocking against the wall. He can hear him on the phone or in the living room talking to people with his loud voice and violent words.

The point is, Mickey can always hear Terry so he wouldn’t be able to surprise him if he was coming up behind him. He likes that so he keeps his music turned off as he walks. 

Everyone in this town is afraid of him but the only person he’s afraid of is his own father. 

He keeps walking. The sound of dogs barking, car engines, gunshots and sirens muffled by the headphones but he can still hear it. It’s kind of peaceful, it’s the kind of sounds that don’t scare him. It’s the kind of sound that he falls asleep to every night. He likes any sound that isn’t coming from the man that he has to call his father. 

**_He’s such a pussy._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** He walks until he finds the abandoned buildings, smiling as he climbs up the stairs to the top and sits down on one of the chairs he brought up here. Cigarettes taped under the chair, a cooler except the ice melt long ago so he just uses it to put his feet on top of. 

This is where he feels safe.

He sits down, getting the cigarettes and the tape is almost out of stick but still putting it back after getting a few out. He lights it, gets a beer out and opens the pringles. 

This is where he feels safe so he finally turns on the music. 

This is where he sits. This is where he drinks the beer that he’s learned to tolerate. This is where he gets wasted and falls asleep in the chair, not scared of what is happening in his kitchen. 

He’s alone but he’ll always be alone, he knows with the type of -  **_people_ ** he likes that he’ll always be alone. 

But that’s okay because he’s not sitting in front of the tv with a beer in his hand while sitting next to his father trying to get him to like him on his birthday. 

**Twenty six** and he wakes up to his arm asleep because his husband is sleeping on it. There’s sounds of kids making a mess down stairs, Carl and Debbie are arguing over something like they’re still the kids they were when Mickey first met them. 

He’s about to get up, swinging his leg over the side of the bed so he can start his day and that is until Ian grabs his wrist and squeezes. 

“Stay.” Ian mumbles sleepily, clearly still exhausted the double he pulled at work yesterday so he could have the whole day and tonight off. 

“Just goin’ to take a piss.” He actually had no plans on climbing back into bed afterwards because it sounds like there’s a whole zoo downstairs and it’s not doing so great things to his anxiety. 

“Wait.” Ian mumbles and Mickey’s patience is about to run out until Ian is sitting up in bed and smiling at him, harm and happy. “Happy birthday, Mick.” His voice still sounding full of sleep but then he’s kissing him, ignoring both of their morning breaths as he keeps kissing him and fingers tangle in Mickey’s hair. “Happy birthday.” He says again, this time against his lips.

Mickey grumbles because he doesn’t have the best relationship with birthdays and he doesn’t know what to expect this year. Every year he knew what to expect and when you expect everything to be shit and it turns out to be shit, there’s no disappointment.

Ian, Debbie and Sandy planned something for him and not knowing what to expect makes him even more anxious than the downstairs sounding like a zoo makes him. 

“Just another fuckin’ day, no reason to make a big deal out of it.” 

Ian laughs, the fucker actually laughs before his hand moves to rest against his face and he looks at Mickey like he hung the fucking moon and it relaxes Mickey instantly. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch. 

“Happy birthday.” He says again like he’s expecting some response that he knows Mickey is capable of. He’s always just pushed Mickey to be himself, to let himself enjoy things and Mickey has been better at it. 

They hold hands in public, they kiss on the sidewalk. For fucks sake they got married in front of the whole fucking town. They sit on the couch, legs tangled together. They kiss on the way out the door and when they get home. There’s casual touches, there’s causal glances. It’s not like Mickey isn’t open to this anymore, he hasn’t been that way in a long fucking time but it’s his birthday and he doesn’t think celebrating himself is all that important. 

Ian is trying to get him to see that it is. That Mickey is important. 

He breaths in, nodding and kissing the palm of Ian’s hand.

“Thanks.” 

That seems to be good enough for Ian because he just smiles, pats his thigh then lays back down. 

“Come back after you piss, I have plans for you.”

Mickey can’t get back fast enough. 

Ian takes his time with Mickey, staring into his eyes with his cock in his mouth. Kissing his thighs extra gently. Kissing his stomach then up his chest, his neck and his jaw. Kissing his lips while inside of him. He tells Mickey that he’s pretty with Mickey’s cum in his hair not knowing just how pretty he looks himself. Ian tells Mickey that he loves him, more than anything, while fucking into him slowly with Mickey on his back looking up into Ian’s eyes and maybe, just maybe this birthday won’t be so bad.

They get high after they fuck, ian bought the expensive shit just for Mickey as his present. They still haven’t left the bedroom except to shower together and make out the entire time because they can do that now. They can make out just because without it leading to anything, even though most of the time it does. 

They’re sitting up in bed and after Ian takes his meds he starts talking about his crazy night last night and how some kids were stuck together by their braces and if it wasn’t so inappropriate he would’ve taken a picture so he could show Mickey because he knows Mickey would’ve found it hilarious. 

Ian’s done nicer things for him. He makes him breakfast almost every morning and he brings him lunch. He sits at the table with him even though he’s already eaten when Mickey gets home from work a little later than expected. He lets Mickey pick the movies even when he hates them and he buys him something that he might like every time he goes to the store. So many little things that Ian does every day that proves his love for him.

Mickey knows Ian loves him by his every day actions but there’s something about that, that just makes Mickey feel happy. 

He feels warm and content. 

He feels safe. 

And not like when he was sixteen and isolated himself on his birthday so he can feel safe. 

He doesn’t have to run to feel safe anymore.

He  **_is_ ** safe.

He knows it’s more than just the weed that makes him feel floaty in the head and his heart less heavy but if anyone asks he’d blame it on that. He leans over, pressing his lips to Ian’s jaw and smiles against it. 

“I’m proud of you, Mick.” 

He closes his eyes and his face rests on Ian’s shoulder, getting closer to his neck. No one has ever told that to him before. Actually, just the opposite. He swallows hard because in all honesty, he’s pretty proud of himself too and he never thought he would see the day. 

He’s out. He’s married. He has a job at the garage with Lip. He takes care of the kids when they need to be taken care of. They have their friends they go out with on weekends. He has this entire life he never planned on having because his whole plan was to be fucked for life but he isn’t. He’s not in jail anymore. He’s not on the run or working with a cartel. He never thought that he could have this but he does.  **_He does_ ** .

He’s proud of himself too.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything just looks at him, tears threatening to fall from bright as ever blue eyes because he feels overwhelmed with the amount of love that he knows Ian feels for him and the amount of love that he feels right back. 

“So proud of you.”

Mickey laughs, he’s never been told that before and his high as fuck husband just told him three times in a row and he knows he meant it.

“Heard you the first time, lumberjack.” But he still rubs his thumb against the beard hair on Ian’s jaw and smiles, giving Ian a nod and just hoping that even in this state that Ian can tell what he’s saying. **_I love you, thank you for giving me a reason to be a person worth being proud of._ **

Ian nods right back at him and lays down, his head on the pillow now and pulls Mickey down with him. 

“Nap time until party.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. 

They nap on and off for a few hours, fucking in between because  _ birthday sex is the best sex _ according to Ian but really, any sex with Ian is the best sex in Mickey’s opinion. 

They finally get out of bed around two in the afternoon. 

They’re greeted by the whole family yelling happy birthday to Mickey and Mickey’s never been told happy birthday by so many people at once. Hell, Mickey hasn’t been told happy birthday by that many people,  **_ever_ ** .

Mickey rolls his eyes, waving them off because it’s really not a big fucking deal but Gallagher’s are very serious about birthdays around here and they have to be, they got enough practically got enough people to have a birthday each month of the year. 

Ian gives him that fucking look again, telling him to enjoy this and let himself be loved by ian’s family that is now also his family without actually saying a word so Mickey just nods, rolling his eyes and lets himself feel the love from a family he never thought he’d be allowed to have either. 

Ian starts making sandwiches for the both of them, asking everyone else if they wanted anything but according to debbie  **_not everyone spent the morning fucking and they had lunch at lunch time._ ** Sounds a lot like jealousy to Mickey. 

They eat in silence, listening to the kids play in the living room because Debbie is doing the daycare thing again on the days that she isn’t working and Mickey hates it but he’s usually working on Monday’s so it doesn’t matter but Ian forced him to get a day off by asking Lip if he could make sure Mickey had the day off. 

Another reason Mickey knows Ian loves him is because Ian knows how anxious he gets asking for shit off because if he isn’t bleeding to death then he should be at work but it is his first birthday as them being married, there’s traditions they should start or whatever and yeah, maybe this will be one of them. 

  
  


Until now, Mickey never got to experience a real Gallagher party and this one was  **_for him_ ** . It was nice and not as annoying as Mickey expected it to be. He spent most of the party just drinking his beer and watching everyone dance in the living room until Ian asked him to dance with him which meant a drunk Ian trying to basically get him off in the middle of a party via dance moves, if that’s what you can call them, but he didn’t exactly mind.

  
  


Mickey finds himself on the back steps nearly an hour later, just needing some fresh air and finds Lip sitting there with a coffee cup in his hand. Mickey assumes this isn’t exactly the type of thing you want to be at when you’re sober and your kid is teething. 

He admires Lip, getting his shit together the way that he did and buying a house, even if it’s a huge dump. He beat the odds, he’s a good dad and he’s sober. Mickey’s pretty proud of him, not that he’d ever say that but he is. It’s cool that maybe just fucking maybe not every single dad around here is a piece of shit. 

They spend a lot of time over at Lip’s house fixing it up together. Just talking and arguing about the way drywall needs to be done. That’s actually how Mickey ended up getting a job at the shop because Lip said it would be good for him and yeah, yeah it really has been and he’s finally doing something that he enjoys and is good at. 

Lip being his friend was not something Mickey expected, with all the times that Mickey beat his face into the sidewalk or gave him short for the money he owed him for a paper. There was always something and because of Ian, that something grew over time and they just didn’t get along. Fuck, Mickey wasn’t exactly happy about the way Lip treated Mandy so call it even. But now, with all that stupid teenage bullshit behind them, they’re actually  _ friends _ . 

Who fuckin’ knew. 

But then again, Mickey never expected to be spending his birthday at a Gallagher party because he’s married to one of them. 

“You making a run for it?” Lip jokes and Mickey knows he’s joking. A joke like that would’ve just felt like an attack, accusing him of something because it’s Lip and Lip can be the most annoying and smug fucker but it doesn’t make him defensive, just slightly irritated in a way that every human being makes him. 

“Sandy and your brother are having a dance battle, I had to get the fuck out of there.” He sits down next to Lip, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. 

“You mean your husband?” He smirks and  **_okay_ ** ,  _ maybe  _ Mickey does want to still beat the shit out of this guy. 

The only response Lip gets is a middle finger to his face which makes him laugh and that’s the opposite of what people used to do. They used to be scared and run away, they used to not get close enough so the only response they could get from Mickey was a middle finger but now Lip is here, not running and now that Mickey thinks about it - Lip never actually ran from him even with the beatings. 

He has a friend. It’s Lip but he has a fuckin’ friend. 

Jesus christ, how did he go from fucked for life to  **_this_ ** . 

The back door opens, a wobbly Ian poking his head out the door and yeah, that’s how he went from fucked for life to happily married with a family and friends. 

“Mick, cake time.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes but he still stands, he made Ian promise that no one was going to sing to him or whatever the fuck people actually do at birthday’s because he’s not some five year old but he’ll take cake, who the fuck won’t take a free cake?

One foot in the kitchen and it makes Mickey itch. He hates when this happens, he hates when something good is ruined by the past and there’s nothing that he can do about it. That’s just a cake, it’s a birthday cake for him and that shouldn’t make him itch like this but all he can remember is the one other time he had one and the sound it made when it was thrown against the wall.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and he knows it’s Ian, it’s always Ian. He turns his head, looking up at his giant of a husband and Ian gives him a smile with a nod. That  _ it’s going to be okay, you’re okay. I’m here _ , type nod and maybe for the rest of his life there will always be things that make him stop and make his chest feel heavy, sick to his stomach and skin itch but for the rest of his life Ian will be there to put his hand on his shoulder and remind him that no one can hurt him now. That he got out, that he’s out of that situation and now he gets to have birthday parties, birthday cake and a husband that loves him. 

After the cake is gone, everyone goes back to dancing but Mickey decides to have another piece so of course Ian is sitting right there next to him with his hand on his knee. 

This is the birthday he never let himself dream of having. He knew he could never have it so he never let himself dream but this is better than any dream he could’ve made up in his head because he didn’t know that feeling like this even existed. He had no idea that it was possible to feel this way. To feel this  **_free_ ** . Ian has always made him free but actually getting to be free in this way, it was something that wasn’t possible but hey, turns out nothing is completely impossible.

He wishes he could tell his six and sixteen year old self this, that at twenty six years old he’ll be happily married and have a job that he loves. He has a family that actually likes him and fuck, he actually likes back. He wishes that he could tell that six year old that it won’t always be cake on the walls and one day he won’t give a fuck if his father likes him or not. He wishes that he could tell that sixteen year old kid that ran off to abandoned buildings to feel safe that he wouldn’t have to run anywhere to feel safe, that the hand on his knee while he eats cake makes him feel safe and not just now but every day because he is safe. 

He wishes that he could tell every version of himself that one day he’ll get to live and not just fight to survive.

Ian gets up and Mickey doesn’t really think much of it, just thought Ian was going back to the party and Mickey didn’t care but he comes back with one oreo in his hand. Ian gives him the most gentle smile as he splits it.

“Last one.” 

It’s all Ian says before handing him the split oreo, like what he just did was no big deal and didn’t have more meaning than Ian could ever know. He never told Ian about the oreo thing with his mom, he never told anyone because it was just their little secret. 

Mickey blinks at him then the oreo in his hand because at some point he must have taken it from Ian but he doesn’t remember. 

“Happy birthday.” he says for the hundredth time that day but Mickey doesn’t roll his eyes this time, doesn’t try to make it less of a deal than it is. This time he just stares at his husband with so much love and admiration in blue eyes. 

And Ian looks back at him the same way. 

Mickey swallows the lump in his throat. He knows he can cry now if he really wanted to but he doesn’t want to. He smiles, gentle and warm, the smile that only Ian gets to see which makes the kid giddy as hell every single time. 

One day he’ll tell Ian all about the mom who brought him the last oreo on the mornings of his birthday because it was the only thing she could give to him. He’ll tell him all about her long hair and her smile that he rarely got to see but when he did, it made him smile just like when Ian smiles but for now he just leans over, presses a kiss to Ian’s forehead and Ian does the same thing to him in return. 

“Thank you.”  _ For today, for yesterday, for every day. _

They sit there together, sharing an oreo in their own little world while the rest of the family dances and laughs together in the other room. 

Maybe birthday’s aren’t too bad. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you like this. mickey means the absolute world to me and i know it's the same for a lot of you so i hope this was good because we all deserve that.
> 
> leave a comment if you so wish. i'm gonna try to have the next chapter of please dont think i let you go up next week but as always i make no promises. 
> 
> twitter: ianlovebot  
> tumblr: sandymilkovich


End file.
